Disclaimer: Dragon Age, it's characters and such belong to EA and Bioware, not me. Though, I'm still going to lay claim to my Caylunne. They aren't getting their hands on him.

-sigh- And here we go again. I swear I still don't like fanfiction. D: Just because I write it occasionally. YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING. Anywho, this if the first of what will most likely be a number of oneshots focused on my character Caylunne and Zevran, since the lack of Zev in the actual game makes me rage. Enjoy. :D


All his life, Caylunne had never been especially good at masking his emotions. Be it anger, or love, despair or joy, somehow he would always manage to give himself away. And that night, as they returned to their own camp in the Brecilian outskirts, the hurt in his expression was clear for all to see.

Wynne was the first to try and find out what had caused his unhappiness. As he kicked around beside his tent she approached and asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about, in that motherly, caring way of hers. Caylunne had simply shook his head and dismissed her as politely as he could. Never-the-less, she caught the sharp edge of his tone – all the indication she needed to know that something was off.

After her, it was Leliana. When Caylunne showed no signs of coming to sit by the fire to eat, she took him a bowl and coaxed him into sitting with her beside her tent to eat. He was reluctant, but eventually complied. It was a small victory, however, as despite managing to get him to sit with her, Leliana was no more successful at getting him to talk than Wynne had been.

Then it was Alistair's turn. After a little bullying from Leliana, he agreed, albeit with a great deal of whining about how he 'wasn't good at things like that'. Caylunne heard it from where he was sitting on his bedroll, and a small smile graced his lips, but other than that, he didn't cheer up. When Alistair finally did come over to talk to him, the other Grey Warden ended up prattling on about Maker knows what. Caylunne made no effort to correct him. When he finally forgot what he was supposed to be talking to Caylunne about, Alistair said good night and wandered away to find something else to eat.

By then, just about everyone who cared enough to try and find out what was the matter with Caylunne had given up and returned to their duties and chores. They cared about the young city elf, of course, but he was a Grey Warden and they would not coddle him.

Except Dog, of course. He was more than happy to coddle his master. It wasn't as if there was anything better for him to do after all.

Caylunne was sitting with Dog by the fire, gently flicking his ears and watching the strings of drool hanging from his mouth with a kind of disgusted fascination when Zevran approached. Dog noticed him first and looked up with a high pitched curious whine. Caylunne followed his gaze and nodded when Zevran smiled at him. He didn't object when the other elf settled down on the ground beside him, and returned to the task of playing with Dog's ears.

He supposed he should have expected Zevran was the observational type, but it still surprised him when the assassin said, "You thought they would be different, didn't you?"

Tearing his attention away from Dog's ears, Caylunne turned to frown at him. "Who?" he said, before he could stop himself. He didn't want to discuss it, but his own surprise had tricked him into feeding the conversation.

"The Dalish, of course," Zevran replied, shooting him that slight, smug little smile that under normal circumstances had Caylunne smiling right back, before he even realised he was doing it.

"I-" he started to say, meaning to protest and deny it. When one of Zevran's eyebrows arched, however, that protest died on his lips. He didn't know if it was actually impossible to get things past the Crow, or if he was just a very good bluffer, but even so, he couldn't lie when Zevran was looking at him like that. "Maybe. I just... in the Alienage, people always spoke of the Dalish so highly. Well, except my cousin. He said they were savages, but even that would have been preferable to..." he trailed off and gave a little shake of his head, "...to that."

Zevran leaned closer, just a little. "You thought they would welcome you with open arms?"

Caylunne shook his head again, this time with a little more anger. "No, of course not. I don't know what I thought. But I know I never expected them to- to treat me like I'm less than them. They act so high and mighty, like there's something so precious and wonderful about them because they prance around in their forests, worshipping their own special gods, but if they treat me like I'm less than dirt, how can they honestly say they are any better than the humans?"

The little outburst earned him two raised eyebrows and a broader smile this time. "Precisely. I do hope you inform them of their hypocrisy tomorrow. I'm sure it will make for entertaining viewing." Caylunne sniffed out an unenthusiastic little laugh, but his face finally stopped looking like it was about to drop off. "And for the record, you may rant at me about the injustices that the world throws at us poor elves who grew up in cities whenever you feel the need. I will be very sympathetic. I promise. You can even cry on my shoulder, if you like. I certainly won't protest. In fact, I may even encourage it."

Caylunne said nothing to that for a long moment, instead choosing to just stare at Zevran with a half-hearted attempt at disapproval. "You know, Wynne is right. You really cannot have a single serious conversation without flirting, can you?"

"Flirting?" Zevran said, faking a scandalised expression. "I do not know what you mean, my dear Warden. Indeed, if your mind so readily connects the offer of a shoulder to cry on with flirting, perhaps you are the one with underhanded intentions. No?"

Gaping at the other elf, Caylunne only shook his head and did his very best to stifle the laugh that almost escaped him. "You are truly impossible. I hope you know that. Good night, Zevran." He stood up, Dog standing as well to follow him. He hesitated before walking away however, and after a pause, he added, "And... thank you. I didn't want to talk about it, but it... well it helped."

"Anything for you," Zevran replied smoothly as he too stood up. "Sleep well."

"And you." And with that they went to their respective tents. Dog settled down outside of Caylunne's tent to watch for darkspawn or particularly malicious squirrels, and Caylunne dragged his bedroll inside to sleep. It came far easier to him than he'd been expecting it to that night, and he begrudgingly gave Zevran the credit for his clearer mind. Perhaps sparing the assassin hadn't been such a bad idea after all.